


Body and Soul

by AngerProbFemme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Good Parent John Winchester, John Winchester isn't a dick, Lonely Dean, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Sad Dean Winchester, Soulmates, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngerProbFemme/pseuds/AngerProbFemme
Summary: This story isn't dead, just on hold. XD Sorry I suck. Prompt: "I wish there were necklaces given to us at birth that were half of a unique shape and our soulmate wore the other half and they got warmer the closer together you were and colder the further away you were..."This with Dean and Cas.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was so small in Johns arms. He was wrapped in a powder blue blanket, the emerald of his stone barely visible under his skin where the blanket was falling away. He assumed his mother was out of the frame asleep. Dean stared at the faded photograph in his hands, a single tear slid down his cheek. He wiped the salt away and put the picture in a box alongside his mother’s paintings. The box was marked _keep_. The keep box was small compared to donate box, but he just didn’t have room in his small apartment. He wasn’t normally a sentimental person about material possessions. He would keep photographs and his parent’s necklaces, but other than that he didn’t see the point in keeping his father’s sports memorabilia. He had his own tools so he would donate the one’s his father used to use and any books would go to Sam. He was in the last room he had to go through and Sam would be on his way to collect the donate piles. They would be borrowing Bobby’s truck to take the boxes to the Salvation Army. His mother would have wanted him to donate as much as possible anyway. Dean grabbed the rest of the photo albums and put them in the correct box. He grabbed the packing tape from the shag carpet where it laid. Bits of fluff stuck to the tape as he lined it up with the top of the last donate box. The screech of the tape shattered the quiet of the once lively house the Winchesters shared. Dean thought he would feel a little more at ease as he taped up the last box. He didn’t. It almost had him collapsing in exhaustion, stress and grief. However, the squeal of bobby’s truck signaled Sam’s arrival. Bobby really needed to replace that damn serpentine belt. Dean heaved the moving box up in his arms and walked down the stairs. He dropped the box onto the pile of others near the front door.

Dean heard the truck door slam shut in the distance and walked into the kitchen to get two beers. Sam probably needed one as bad as he did. Sam worked at a law firm in town and then had to come deal with this horrible shit. At least Bobby gave him the courtesy of a few days paid leave for packing and the funeral. Dean popped the cap off the second beer as Sam walked in the door and paused as he looked around. Sam’s face gave away his observation as his neutral expression became a frown.

“Yea, tell me about it. Really depressing shit.” Dean said before he took a swig of the dark liquid.

“You really got it done all by yourself…” Sam said in shock.

“Well, yea. Bobby gave me the time off.” Sam looked dejected when Dean responded. He knew Sam felt guilty, but he really had no cause too.

“It really isn’t a big deal Sammy. I was fine doing it by myself. We had less stuff since mom died anyway. I mean, you’ve got your job, Jess and the baby is half way here.” Dean gave him a forced smile. He couldn’t manage anything genuine right now. He was legitimately happy for Sam, but with the death of his mother 2 years ago, and now his father, it was all too much of a reminder that Dean was now even more alone. His necklace felt cold and heavy against his chest. It had been cold for 35 years, but now if felt like ice. He glanced at Sam, noticing his necklace was hidden under his shirt, a sort of unofficial societal notice that you were taken.

Once you found your match people tended to want to keep it hidden. I mean, people still did the wedding rings, but someone famous made a point to hide their necklace during a photoshoot a long time ago and the trend just stuck. Being closer to your heart or some shit. The magazine was going for the fluffy romantic angle. The fact that if you lose your necklace, your ass is toast in 24 hours, is as good an incentive as any to keep it close. Romance be damned.

“So, when does the realtor come for the appraisal?” Sam said ripping Dean out of his thoughts.

“Oh, um, tomorrow after the funeral.”

“You didn’t want to space it out a bit?” Sam asked concerned.

“Naw, I just want to get this over with. I need to get back to work. I don’t want to dwell on it. The money from the house will help.” Dean shrugged, trying to be nonchalant despite the fact that he will be burying his father next to his mother tomorrow.

“Dean, it is ok to be sad.” Sam said as he looked away from Dean. The whole world knew Dean didn’t like ‘chick flick’ moments, which basically equated to ‘Dean is bad at feelings’. Sam wanted to talk to Dean, but all things considered, he had to tread carefully. Dean had taken his mom’s death hard. It had only been two years and now his dad is gone. Sam had a buffer in Jess, but Dean had no one. Dean had already started taking the lack of a match personally and now this. Dean wasn’t in a good way and it seemed like Sam’s comment didn’t help.

“I am not sad Sammy. I am just so very, very done.” Sam looked up at him at the response, surprised. He expected rage, not defeat. Dean continued.

“I am just pissed because I have to get used to the fact that I will be alone for the rest of my life. Mom is gone, dad is gone, and you have your own family now.” Dean held up his hand when Sam tried to I interrupt. “We all knew this would happen after mom died. No one ever lasts long after their match dies. Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you will always be here Sammy. I know you will, don’t think I don’t know that. It’s just…. it’s just different now.” Dean felt exhausted just saying it. He hated talking about this shit.

“Dean, I am sorry you’re having to do so much of this by yourself, but I promise you won’t be alone for the rest of your life. Sometimes it just takes a while. There was this one couple who didn’t find each other until they were 60! I just happened to get lucky. Good things happen to those who wait.” Sam said trying to make Dean feel better. “Look, why don’t you go home and get some sleep. I’ll take care of the boxes and cleaning up a bit, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sam gave him a smile and Dean just sighed. “Thanks Sammy.” Dean gave Sam a pat on the shoulder and grabbed his keys off the counter and walked out the front door.

                                                                                                               -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean parked the 67 Impala, that his dad had left him, in the sad excuse of a parking lot his apartment complex claimed was worth the extra money. He had lived there for a while so he had one of the covered spots, which he thanked God for now that the Impala was his. He had already taken his old truck and left it at Bobby’s. It was too much of a piece of crap to sell. Bobby could use it as a project or sell it for parts. It was old, so it could be crushed for a decent amount. Led Zeppelin was muted as Dean shut off the car. He wanted to leave his parents old house, but he also didn’t want to walk into his tiny one-bedroom apartment. He got the apartment when he was younger so his parents could enjoy their golden years and so he could enjoy some independence. He didn’t expect to stay here long. He assumed his match would have presented them self by now and he would have found a better place with them. Being by himself, he found no reason to leave. His necklace hasn’t let off a single iota of warmth since he moved out.

“Fuck waiting till I’m 60.” Dean muttered under his breath.

Dean didn’t even get out of the car. His apartment was just too damn depressing now. The Impala roared to life alongside a guitar riff. He backed out of the lot and headed toward the Roadhouse. It was pretty family friendly during the day. Ellen served great burgers and other traditional foods suited for a cheap family night out. At night however, it functioned as more of a biker bar than anything else. Dean had spent a lot of time at the Roadhouse growing up because Ellen, the owner, was a family friend. That is how he got his current job. Bobby, another of his dad’s friends hung out at the Roadhouse in hopes of ‘wooing’ Ellen. Bobby always let Dean pretend to fix cars with his Dad when he was a kid. Dean decided he didn’t want to pretend around the time he was 8, so his dad let him help with maintenance on the Impala. When Dean turned 15 Bobby gave him a part time job and he never left. Bobby even made him a partner in the business when Dean turned 30. That had been a happier time.

Dean pulled into the crunchy gravel lot of the Roadhouse. It was getting dark so the neon signs were lit and illuminating the already ten Harley’s parked up by the porch. The neon signs and satellite dish were the only modern things on the outside of the bar. Despite those items The Roadhouse looked like a wood cabin that would be more at home in the Rockies. There was a loud crash and Dean looked up from locking his car door.

“Get your drunk ass out of here! Touch me again and you will lose more than your pride!”

A petite blonde yelled and physically threw a scruffy, leather clad biker on his ass in between the motor cycles, causing one to fall over. Ouch. Dean walked up waiting for the biker to retaliate.

“Craaashy Bitch!” He slurred. He picked up his fallen bike, started it with a roar and road off in a cloud of dust.

“Regular night for you Jo?” Dean chuckled.

“Well now that you are here, yes, it is.” Jo sassed.

“You always did attract the classy ones.” Jo rolled her eyes at his remark.

“Speaking of classy, how is Ash doing?” He laughed and Jo smacked him upside his head.

Dean just laughed harder. He could already feel himself unwind. Jo was a sister to him and their banter growing up had become legend. Ash had come to work for Ellen when Jo was just a teenager. Ash is a few years older than her. Everyone was surprised when Jo and Ash’s stones reacted to each other. They waited of course, but after their meeting they were inseparable. They looked very different, but personality wise, they were perfect for each other. The stones wouldn’t lie. You were born with them. They are a physical manifestation of your soul. You could say they are the perfect combination of body and soul. That is what he read once in a magazine in the doctor’s office anyway. Once you hit puberty the stone detaches from your chest. Because of the original location of the stones, people wore the stones as necklaces. Just seemed fitting and easy to keep track of. They are too big to wear as anything else. Everyone’s stone is different, until you find your match. Your matches stone is the same shape as yours. At least half a shape. They are meant to complete a design just as your match is meant to complete you as a person. He had heard stories and seen the movies of the reactions. Not all of them good. There are bad people in the world. Whether they are born that way or a product of circumstance, sometimes people just can’t be with their match. Bad things happen even when you have your “soul mate”. Sometimes your “soulmate” is a real asshole. There have been plenty of reports of people that have a disconnect from their stones and just leave their partner. That is what happened to Ellen. Bobby’s wife died from cancer. They helped each other and it sometimes seems they have a stronger bond than any stone could give them. When a match dies a literal part of you dies with them. That is why John Winchester only lasted 2 years after Mary died. Thank God Bobby had Ellen.

Dean stepped inside of his home away from home. His mom and dad might be gone, but Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Ash…. they have always been family too. The thought brought a smile to his face as he sat on a stool at the bar. He could get through this.

Ellen spotted him and walked up. She gave him a somber smile. “Hey sugar, how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine Ellen.” He rested his arms on the counter and laced his fingers together. He started to rub his thumbs together. He could tell everyone was walking on eggshells and was being overly nice to him. He hated it. He can’t be himself when people acted like this.

“Alright then.” She rubbed his hands and reached under the counter. She came back with a beer and placed it in front of Dean. He threw it back and almost drained it in one go.

“Slow down boy. That one is on the house, but I can’t have you going through my inventory at that rate.” She said and gave him a soft laugh.

“Yea, I hear ya. Finished with the house today. Realtors are coming by tomorrow and if all goes well it will be on the market in 2 days.”

“Well, you’ve never been one to sit on your ass.” Ellen said. She reached under the bar again, sensing Dean would need more than one beer. She popped the cap and Dean took it from her. Ellen leaned her hip on the counter expecting Dean to say more.

“Sam took all the boxes to donate and he is cleaning up for the realtor.” Ellen just nodded at him.

“Well we are going to be closed to the public tomorrow. After the funeral we are coming back here. We are gonna cook up all of Johns favorites and do some shots for him. Everyone will be here.” That was Ellen’s subtle way of telling him he better bring his ass here and not wallow away in that sad little apartment.

“Sounds great Ellen. Thank you for doing this.”

“It is my please Dean. We all loved him and he will be missed. We should celebrate his life.”

Dean didn’t respond. He just gave a forced smile at his beer before he drained it. He looked up expectantly at Ellen as he pushed the empty bottle towards her.

“I don’t think so sugar. This stuff won’t erase anything, and neither will any bodies here.” She looked sternly at Dean as if he was 8 years old again. “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep. You will need strength for tomorrow.” She ruffled his hair flat and walked away to help other patrons waiting on drinks.

Dean gave a heavy sigh and tried to straighten his dark blond hair.

“Well that was final.” He got off his stool and made his way out the door, and waved a goodbye to Jo.

                                                                                                          -----------------------------------------------------------------------

This time when Dean pulled into the parking lot he actually got out of the car. He trudged up the stairs slowly. The stress of the day had finally taken its toll. His legs felt like lead when he walked into his apartment. He had been so busy with taking care of the house and preparing for the funeral he hadn’t had time to clean anything. His living room seemed mainly untouched, but the kitchen was covered in pizza boxes and Chinese takeout. The building was old so there was a faint smell of mold and the combination of that, mixed with the old food turned his stomach. Despite the smell, Dean walked past the mess and into his room. He threw the pile of laundry that had accumulated on his bed, into the floor. He kicked off his boots and flopped into bed. He will worry about the mess later. His eyes felt as heavy as his legs and soon he was wrapped in the sweet escape of nothingness.

Dean felt a breeze and opened his eyes. Everything around him was black, but beneath his hand was something cool and soft. He was sitting and it felt like the ground underneath him. He rubbed his hand through the mystery soft spot under his hand. Its strands tickled and left his hand damp. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He noted the aroma of cut grass. As he let out the comforting breath his chest lit up as if someone put a cigarette out on his sternum. His eyes flew open as he gripped his chest. The burn calmed but a warm sensation filled his entire chest. In his shock he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t surrounded by darkness anymore. Instead it seemed he was sitting in a park. It was late morning. Joggers ran by, people played fetch with dogs and mothers walked their children in strollers to the playground he saw in the distance. Despite the fact that he could tell what was going on around him, everyone was blurred as if he were staring at a water color painting similar to the ones his mother used to do. He looked at his hands but they were not affected by the strange state of what he was seeing. He stood up and the sensation in his chest grew stronger. He palmed his necklace and felt how warm it was. He stared down at the emerald half circle and realization had his head shoot up. His heart skipped a beat as he frantically started searching around him. _It can’t be_.

His heart sped up as he started down the jogging path with the others. _Finally_ … He had waited for so long. He held his necklace so tight he thought he might break it. He didn’t know who he was looking for but he could feel it in his gut that he would know immediately. His breath was ragged and his jog had turned into a full sprint. The further he ran the hotter the stone became. He saw a lake about a hundred yards away. There, that is where he needed to go. It was like a magnet pulling him. Pressure now replaced the heat in his chest. That is where the pull was coming from. It was painful. It was as if, if someone were to stop him from this task he would surely die. He didn’t know how it was possible but his legs carried him toward the lake even faster. Sweat was falling along his frame like small rivers and streams. His shirt was sticking to him like a second skin. He was so close he could smell the fresh breeze coming off the lake. The stone grew even hotter. If he kept holding his necklace it would leave a scar. There was a bench just up ahead situated near the shore. There was someone sitting on the bench. He stopped breathing. _Oh my God this is it_ , he though. It has to be them. The person wasn’t distorted like the other people.

It pained him but he slowed down to a jog. He didn’t want to scare whoever it was. He stopped dead in his tracks about ten feet from the bench. His heart just wouldn’t slow down, and the pressure just got worse. The breeze from the lake was cooling his skin, making him shiver. He couldn’t stop staring. He was behind the bench so he couldn’t see as much as he wanted. The man was reading. His hair was messy and so dark brown it was nearly black. His fingers twitched and all he wanted to do was run his fingers through the messy tangle of dark hair. He started to approach slowly, almost tip toeing his way towards the man on the bench. He gripped his necklace and he quickly released it letting out a hiss. He couldn’t hold it anymore and he was surprised the stone wasn’t glowing from the heat it was emitting. His eyes never left the man. But at his hiss, the man looked up as if sensing Dean. He was wearing a crisp white shirt. Laid next to him on the bench were a navy overcoat on top of a tan trench coat. Dean was so close now he could reach out and touch him. He might have wanted to run his fingers though that wild hair, but he settled for the man’s shoulder. Dean laid his hand tentatively on his right shoulder. He gave a slight squeeze, feeling firm muscles. The man started to turn his head and Dean’s face split in to a grin that was almost painful.

Just as Dean was about to see the man’s face he felt that pressure again. This time in his spine. As if God himself snapped his fingers to make it so, Dean was pulled backwards. Everything around him was stretched out and the man he had spent so long waiting for, quickly disappeared. Dean felt himself scream but nothing came out. The pressure disappeared and the stretch of the scenery was popped back into a static image, right back to where he had started on the grass by the jogging path. Dean was on his butt gripping the grass and then the park was gone. Replaced by the inky blackness. He looked around frantically for the man on the bench, but everything was gone. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t smell anything, but in the distance there was a beeping. He felt himself stand and start to make his way toward the source. Just there, in the distance was a soft red light. The beeping just wouldn’t stop. It was starting to grate on his nerves. He reached the offending sound and realized it was an alarm clock. The red he saw read 8:00 am. This fucking alarm clock was the reason he wasn’t with the man on the bench. He lifted his leg and stomped on the clock until the beeping stopped.

                                                                                                                                     ------------------------------------------------------------

Dean shot up in bed. Sweating through the clothing he wore yesterday. His heart was trying to beat out of his chest and he looked around his room confused as to why he wasn’t in a park. There was supposed to be a lake and the man…. Oh… The weight of his realization hit him. It was a dream. He had felt such hope and happiness at seeing the man on the bench. He looked around his room slowly trying to fight off the panic because the man wasn’t with him. The pressure was back, but this time it was making its way up to his throat. He tried to swallow it back down but he couldn’t. He let a sob escape. Then another. Then another. He couldn’t stop them. He had been so happy standing by the lake with the man. It hadn’t been real, but he felt everything. It had been so real to him. The tears falling down his cheeks were making it hard to see. He was so angry. It just wasn’t fair! He turned in bed and with all the strength he could manage he punched the wall. “FUCK!” He screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I was preparing for a AtlCon, then I went to AtlCon, then I got sick, then I had to go to a funeral. Just got back yesterday. I start my job soon so I'm hoping to finish this story before then. 
> 
> Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Super depressing chapter, with lots of brotherly love. Not that kind...Cas will show up in either chapter 3 or 4. XD I swear.

Dean’s hand throbbed as he stared at the new hole in his wall.  The fresh pain in his hand served well to distract him from the residual anger of his dream.  He came down from the adrenaline rush and sighed.  His landlord was gonna kill him.  He should pick up some sheet rock mud from the hardware store later.  He threw the sheets he had gotten tangled in last night to the side and winced as he swung his feet to the floor.  He had been so distracted from the hole in the wall and his hand, that he hadn’t realized the impressive hard on he was sporting. 

“What the hell….” 

Occasionally this happened.  All men had to deal with this, but this was different.  He was so hard it was getting painful, especially trapped in his jeans.  The pain in his hand should have distracted his body. 

He reached down and ran his hand along the outline of his dick through his pants.  He exhaled heavily as he closed his eyes.  ‘ _Wow, this feels better than it normally does_.’ He thought as he moved his palm back up adding a bit more force and a flash of blue ran across his closed eyes.  He gasped and stood up quickly.  He needed a cold shower.  That or he could flick himself.  He grimaced.  Cold shower it was.  He tried to ignore the pressure building and started to rid himself of clothing, that now felt itchy and suffocating.  Snippets of his dream flashed in his head and he didn’t know how it was possible but he was getting harder. 

“This is insane…” He whispered to himself.

He was just in briefs when he entered the plain white bathroom.  He quickly turned on the shower and laid out a towel.  He yanked down his underwear and his cock gave an audible smack against his stomach as he stood up.  All he could do was stare at his own dick.  He thought back to times when he was ridiculously horny but he had nothing to compare this too.  If his dick didn’t feel like it was going to explode he would be laughing at the situation. It was not cooperating and a cold shower wasn’t gonna do shit for this.  He might as well have a warm one because there was only one way this was going to go away and he needed it to happen soon.  He turned the tap to the left and stepped in as steam started to fill the small bathroom.  He took a deep breath and tried to relax amongst the steam as he stepped into the shower.

Hot water hit his skin and he leaned his head back in the heavy spray.  He couldn’t say much good about his apartment, but he could proudly say that it had great water pressure.  He ran his hands through his cropped hair, trying to enjoy the loosening of his muscles despite the strain in his groin.  He closed his eyes slowly and he leaned his back against the cool tiles on the wall. 

Behind his eyes the dark-haired man was sitting on the bench.

 Dean braced one hand against the tile and he brought his right hand down to grip himself loosely.  Just that small amount contact made his breath hitch.

_The dark-haired man stood and turned._

Dean started to move his hand slowly.

_His facial details were muted, except his eyes.  They were the most striking shade of blue Dean had ever seen and he had a hard time looking at them directly._

 Dean used his first two fingers to put more pressure on the underside of his cock as his hand picked up speed. 

_Blue eyes smiled at Dean and started to walk towards him._

Deans heart grew heavy and sped up as his hips started to flex on their own against his hand. 

_The man reached out and cupped his face.  Dean parted his lips to exhale in relief from the contact.  The blue-eyed man ran his thumb over Deans bottom lip.  Dean tried to chase it with his tongue.  He needed to taste, to feel.  The man removed his thumb and replaced it with his mouth, just barely bringing their lips together.  It was a ghost of a kiss.  Dean whined.  He needed more._

Deans mouth was parted and his breath was labored as he thrust into his hand.  He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and tried to concentrate on the sensation and images flashing behind his eyes.  Grunts filled the air as he felt that tingle, and familiar heat build.  He was so close.

_He didn’t want to play a game.  He had waited too long for this.  Dean grabbed him in a hug and crashed their lips together.  The man grasped the back of Deans shirt as if it were all that was saving him from falling to his death.  There wasn’t a single centimeter separating them.  Dean needed him as close as possible.  The man’s heat, his heady scent, the stubble brushing against Deans cheek and lips, the feel of the man’s fingers bruising his back, all of it was too much and not enough.  He was a starved man eating for the first time and he craved more.  Dean finally ran his fingers through that dark hair and gripped the nape of the man’s neck as he forced his tongue forward._

Dean’s head hit the wall with a dull thud as he came.  His back was arched and a silent scream was on his lips as his hand wrung every pulse of cum from his body.  His hand slowed and dropped as Dean lowered himself to sit in the tub.  His legs shook and he didn’t know how long they would hold him.  His chest rose and fell in time with the ragged breaths that left his body.  Never, in his life had he come so hard from touching himself.  Masturbating was never that pleasurable to begin with.  It was a means to an end for stress relief, or to help him sleep better.  That was just ridiculous.  He exhaled a low chuckle as his breath slowed.  Ridiculous maybe, but that was insanely amazing.  Whoever this angel in his dreams was, he needed him in the flesh.  Dean needed that man to be sitting here in the tub with him, holding him.  It should have been his hand on Dean, wringing those sensations out of him.  Dean fingered his necklace wondering if the man in his dreams was his actual match.  His necklace felt warm, but it was probably just because of the shower.

Dean gripped the side of the tub and hoisted himself back to a standing position.  The water was starting to cool and he still needed to clean himself off.  The come on his hand started to feel like glue.  Dean grabbed the bar of soap and built up a lather on his hands and washed away any evidence of his fantasy.  Was it a fantasy though?  It had been the same man, the same bench, but why did Dean make his eyes blue?  Did Dean make it up, or where the man’s eyes truly blue and he saw something before being pulled out of his dream.  He washed the suds from his body and quickly washed his hair.  He turned the shower off just as it was getting too cool to be comfortable. 

He stepped out of the tub and grabbed his towel.  His necklace still felt warm against the bare skin of his chest.  He toweled off the cooling drops from his body and waited for the necklace to inevitably cool as is always did.  This time however, it didn’t.  He gave a puzzled look at the necklace in the mirror.  He took his eyes away from his reflection and turned them to the actual emerald half circle resting on his chest. 

There was no way…. His hand started to shake as he lifted the necklace.  He squinted and brought the stone as close to his face as he could focus.  It didn’t look any different and it was warm in his hand too. 

“Holy shit…”

His legs felt weak and he sat down on the toilet with a heavy flop.  He could understand the heat in the dream.  It was just a damn dream.  This…. this is real.  The warmth in his chest that he felt in his dream was coming back with a vengeance. 

No, wait, this wasn’t the same.  His heart sped up, and his mouth was dry but this wasn’t the nervousness or excitement that he felt last night.  This was hope; Hope that he wasn’t dreaming, or that his necklace wasn’t broken.  _How the hell would it be broken_ he thought.  They don’t break like that, but knowing his luck, his would be.  He couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he fingered the now warm necklace.  Dean started to wonder how far away the man was, or when they would finally cross paths.  He was not able to stay with his musings for long however.

A shrill ring broke through the silence of the small apartment.  Dean dropped the necklace back against his chest, startled.  He cursed as he wrapped the damp towel around his waist out of instinct.  He walked quickly over to his night stand and snatched the phone up.  Sam was calling and he slid the phone icon to the right, the offending noise silenced.

“What!” Dean snapped

“Whoa, dude.  Look I know this isn’t going to be a good day for you, but he was my dad too!”

“Shit…” Dean shut his eyes and ran his hands though his wet hair. The funeral…

“We all need to be there for each other today, and no one will be able to do that with you snapping...”

Sam tried to continue with the lecture but Dean cut him off.

“Hey, I know, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it; I was just distracted…”

There was a very long pause and Dean almost thought Sam had hung up.

“Hello, Sam?”

“Wait…. you were distracted?  How could you be distracted from this?  There is only one person that could distract me and that is Jess.  I don’t mean to make this day any worse by bringing this up, but Dean, you don’t really have anything…. or…. anyone to distract you.  Wait…Did you bring someone home last night?

Dean laughed at Sam’s question.  Normally he would have been pissed with Sam bringing up his lack of companion, but all he could do was laugh.  Dean adjusted the phone against his shoulder and threw his towel on the bed.

“Sammy, did anything weird happen right before you met Jess?”

Dean grabbed some clean underwear out of his dresser and stepped into them waiting on Sam to answer and trying not to drop the phone.

“Umm, what do you mean by weird?”

Dean sighed and grabbed the dress slacks hanging on his closet door.

“Like, did you have any weird dreams?”  Dean slowly pulled up the pants.  He didn’t own very many nice clothes and he didn’t want to rip or wrinkle these.

“Not that I remember.  Well, I did start eating foods that I normally hated.  Turned out Jess liked pimento cheese.”

Dean made a hacking sound into the phone as he buckled his belt.

Sam laughed at Deans response. “I still eat it too.  What are these questions about?”

“One more question Sammy.”  Dean toed at the scuffed wood floor of his bedroom.  He couldn’t believe he was about to ask this.  “Umm, did…you know…stuff…feel more intense than usual?  Like before you met her?”  Dean coughed, his mouth felt even drier. 

“What stuff?” Sam said hesitantly.

Dean groaned in frustration.  He did not want to spell this out.  “Come on man.  You’re smart.  You know STUFF.  Personal activities.”  Dean snapped.  His neck was warm and he started pacing the short length of his room.

There was silence for a beat and then a very exaggerated “Oh!” came from the phone.  Sam chuckled and Dean didn’t appreciate him finding humor in his awkward situation.  The last few hours had made Dean feel like a freak.  He just wanted to know something about this was normal. 

Dean stopped pacing and grabbed the white collared shirt from the hanger.  He paused before putting it on.  This was the kind of shirt mystery man was wearing.  Dean ran his fingers along the collar.

“DEAN!” Sam yelled

“Shit sorry.  What did you say?”

“I said, yes that happened to me.  About a week before I met Jess, everything got better.  I slept better, food tasted better, I could pick up smells more distinctly, and yea personal time was intense.  Why are you asking me this?  What happened after you left last night?”

Dean let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding.  Good, at least one thing was ‘normal’.  It was either his match was close or he had a brain tumor.

“My necklace is warm.” Dean said with a smile that Sam couldn’t see. 

“What, Really!?”  Sam said excitedly.  “That is amazing Dean!  How hot is it?”

For some reason Dean felt embarrassed.  He rubbed the back of his neck and his smile just kept getting bigger.

“Umm, it is just warm.  But I had a dream last night.  It was so real man!  In the dream, I think I met him and the necklace was so hot it burned my hand.”

“Ah, well every person reacts differently when their necklace starts responding.”  Sam replied almost clinically. “I didn’t have any dreams, but like I said earlier some things changed.  They won’t go away, but the reactions will calm down once you meet…him.”  Sam paused at the end.

“What was with the pause at the end Sammy?”

“I am just surprised is all. Nothing bad.” Sam rushed out.  “You just kind of have a history with women that is kind of notorious.”  Dean could practically hear the shrug though the phone.

“Dude, I was so much younger back then.  It wasn’t all women either.  Never mattered to me.  I just….” Dean never talked about this, but he didn’t seem to care as much as he used too.  The one person who would have cared, he would be saying goodbye to today.  “I never wanted to bring it up because of dad.  He would have freaked.  I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Neither brother spoke.  The reminder of the days impending funeral clouded the happiness that had managed to peak through the fog momentarily.  “Look, thanks for listening.  I thought I was going crazy or had a brain tumor or something.”  Dean tried to lighten the mood.  It seemed to work based off Sam’s hearty laugh.

“I’ll see you soon Dean. Please don’t be late.”

“I won’t.  Bye Sammy.”

Dean tapped the red phone on the screen to disconnect the call.

He sat down heavily on the bed and leaned back.  He sighed contentedly.  He had some answers and Dean supposed now all he did was wait.  How was he supposed to react when he met him?  He had seen movies and read books, but those were exactly that.  Fiction.  This was real, and he didn’t want to freak out the other man, or embarrass himself.  He also didn’t want to reel in all his feelings and come off as if the other man wasn’t already making a huge impact on Dean. 

Dean felt something rough in his left hand.  He glanced down his body and realized he was still holding the crisp white shirt.  He pulled the shirt up and threw it over his face.  Was he supposed to seek the man out?  People wrote books about taking epic journeys to find their soulmates, but the fact that Deans necklace was warm means that the man is at least in the same city.  Not much of an epic journey there. 

All he knew was that he was starting to feel sick with nervousness.  This sick feeling wasn’t the anticipation of meeting the man though.  Dean had to bury his father today, and a warm necklace wasn’t going to change that.  Dean sat up and set his phone aside.  Dean slid his arms into the shirt and pulled the fabric over his shoulders.  He stood up and walked to the mirror hanging on the outside of his closet door as he closed the buttons. 

Dean tucked his shirt into his black slacks and looked up at himself in the mirror.  He looked tired.  He had dark circles under his eyes and his stubble had gone ignored in preparation for today.  He rubbed his face and walked into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean pulled into the funeral homes parking lot.  There was no rock to mute today.  He left himself to his thoughts. His family had never been overly religious. Except for his mother.  She wasn’t necessarily religious as much as she had faith in spades.  She used to tell Dean that he had angels watching over him.  She would have wanted John to have a memorial service and be buried next to her.  John might have grown away from his friends in the last few years, but people loved him.  That was easy to see now as the cars started to pull in behind him.  At this rate the lot would be full.  Dean gathered the remaining will power he had after this morning and put up what walls he could.  He steeled himself against grief when he opened the squeaky door and got out of the car.  He buttoned his black blazer and shut the Impalas heavy door.

He walked the short distance to the entrance and greeted the funeral director.  Her name was Tessa.  Her dark hair that framed her face was up in a bun today.  She could try and look professional but her pencil skirt and jacket were not doing much to hide her perfect curves.  In any other circumstance, he would have probably hit on her.  As it stands, now he can barely look at her.  He gave her a forced smile as she extended her hand.  He took her hand in a casual hand shake.

“Mr. Winchester. I am sorry for your loss.”  She used her other hand to pat their conjoined ones.

“Thank you Tessa.  Please, just call me Dean.”  She let go of their hands and gave him a genuine smile.  He would never understand how people could do this job, but Tessa was good at it and seemed to give a shit about the people in this town.

“Of course…Dean.”  She handed him a funeral order of service pamphlet.  He took it and started toward the front of the pews.  He stopped to greet people and thank them for coming.  Many people had red rimmed eyes and were clutching soggy tissues.  He tried not to be rude, but he didn’t come here for them.  He excused himself as quickly as possible and slowly made his way to the front where Sam and Jess were. 

Sam was busy talking with Ellen but Jess made a B line to him when they caught each other’s eyes.  Jess tended to feed off others emotions and she was very, very pregnant.  So, when she broke the hug she plastered him with, his shoulder was nice and wet.

“Hey Jess, you doing ok?”

She took a deep breath and gave him a bright smile.  “Yea, Dean, I’m fine.  Just hormones, and I am just so sorry for you two.  I know you were close to your dad growing up.”  She gave his arm a squeeze and backed up to give him a little breathing room.

“Yea, I’ll miss him.  We knew this would probably happen when mom died.  No matter how far in advance we saw this coming It still sucks.”

Dean knew he was suffering for those 2 years.  John Winchester was stuck in hell after Mary died.  Dean had watched his once strong father wither away to nothing.  It got to the point where Dean had to take care of John because he was just too weak to take care of himself.

Jess seemed to read his thoughts.  “At least he isn’t suffering anymore.  I’m so sorry you had to watch that happen to your father.”

“It’s ok Jess.  He’s with mom now.”  Dean’s throat was getting tight and he needed to remove himself from the situation.  Jess had other plans.  She wrapped him in a hug he couldn’t escape from.  Her bump made the hug awkward, but at the same time reminded him of the good things in his world.  The tightness gave way to a chuckle.  “Ok, Ok.  No chick flick moments Jess, even though that is your specialty.” He patted her back and she let him go. 

“Let me know if you need to talk.”  She gave him a wink and he thought she might not be talking about John Winchester anymore.  She walked back to the front pew and sat down rubbing her back. Sam and his bit mouth…

Dean watched Sam wave to Ellen as she walked to her own seat.  He gave Jess a kiss on the cheek and stood to look at Dean.  He didn’t know how but Sam never had to say much to express exactly what he was feeling.  Dean saw Sam now, and Sam was hurting.  Dean did more of the caretaking and he knew Sam felt guilty.  Dean was happy to do it while Sam finished school.  It was so important to his parents that Sam finish.  Dean also took care of most of the will affairs and the funeral.  Dean was tired, but he felt it was his responsibility.  He didn’t begrudge his brother a thing.  Because of Sam’s distance, Dean sometimes forgot that Sam still lost his father and his mother.  Sam’s eyes were bloodshot and he wore the same dark circles on his face that he himself did.  The crease between his brows seemed almost permanent now.  Dean liked his personal space, but this just didn’t seem to be the time to care.  He needed to be a big brother.  Dean walked over to Sam and embraced him.

“Thank you for helping me with all of this Sam.  I’m sorry you had to do anything.  You have enough on your plate.”  Sam didn’t say anything. He just held onto Dean.

“Dad and mom are together now.  They aren’t hurting anymore.” A hot tear rolled down Deans cheek and he felt Sam let out a shuttering breath. 

They held each other for a few beats more.  Sam relaxed his grip on Dean and backed away slightly.  Sam wouldn’t look at Dean, but held his hand as he sat down.  Dean followed him and the preacher approached the podium. 

The preacher recited a few appropriate verses from the bible.  Dean couldn’t bring himself to listen.  All he could hear were the quite sobs and sniffles coming from the congregation behind him.  He tried to keep himself under control.  Not only was there a picture of John near the closed casket behind the preacher, but there was also a picture of John and Mary together.  If he looked at the picture he would lose it, he just knew he would.

The preacher finished his prayer and invited Jo up.  He knew Jo was going to do something but he didn’t know what.  A boy about her age followed her but separated from her at the podium.  Kevin something was his name.  He was a substitute teacher at the middle school or something like that.  Sam knew him better than Dean did.  Kevin walked over to the piano situated in the back corner on a raised platform.  He looked at Jo and waited with his hand in his lap. 

Jo stared down at the podium for a solid minute.  Everyone just waited patiently.  When she looked up she wiped her face with a tissue.  She turned and gave Kevin a nod.  Kevin started playing a very soft melody that Dean recognized.  Jo saw the recognition on Dean and Sam’s face and she gave them a big smile before she started singing a lullaby of Carry On My Wayward Son.  A fresh tear fell from his face and he squeezed Sam’s hand.  Sam looked over at Dean and they shared a smile.  His father was responsible for Dean’s taste in music.  Although Sam found his own music, he was still raised on the classics like Dean was.  Jo decided against covering the whole song.  She and Kevin put together a short arrangement that, despite the length, didn’t leave a dry eye in the house.  She managed to put a world of emotion and love into about two minutes.  When she finished no one clapped, but no one needed to.  Her tribute was felt by everyone. 

She silently walked back to where Ellen and Ash sat.  They both hugged her when she hid her face in Ash’s neck.  The preacher thanked Jo for her tribute and invited people to come and share stories.  A few people spoke.  Most too emotional to.  Dean himself had no plans to speak.  He just couldn’t.  He was never good with words, especially in a public setting.  Any talking he needed to do for John he would do in his own room with just God to see.  Bobby and Ellen spoke of their younger years with John.  The ‘shenanigans’ that were spoken of had everyone laughing.  The bond that he had with Mary had everyone crying.  After the last speaker sat down the preacher walked up to his podium.

“We have one last speaker today.  Sam Winchester, Johns youngest son, would like to share a few words.”  The preacher nodded at Sam and took his seat to the side of the stage.  Sam gave Dean’s hand a squeeze and began to rise.  He walked stiffly to the podium.

Sam took a deep breath and straitened his jacket as he looked out at the congregation.

“I wanted to thank everyone for coming here today to celebrate my dad’s life.”

Sam paused and started to figit with the hem of his jacket.

“He was a very hard working man and he loved us fiercely.  He didn’t just love us though.  He loved all of you too.  Bobby over there once said family don’t end in blood.”  Sam motioned toward Bobby who was sitting behind Ellen.

“You all being here today is proof of that.”

Sam turned his attention to Dean.

“My father raised Dean and I to be the men we are today.  My brother Dean helped my dad take care of my mom when she got sick.  He then took care of my dad so I could finish school.  Thank you, Dean.”  Sam’s voice started to waver and Dean knew he wasn’t going to be able to be up there much longer.  Sam didn’t go overboard and Dean appreciated that.  Sam gave a small smile back at the congregation.

“As most of you know.  Jess and I are expecting a baby…very soon.” He gave a small laugh. 

“We had planned on keeping the sex a surprise, but…” Sam trailed off and looked to Jess for encouragement.  Jess smiled and nodded.

“We are having a boy, and in honor of my father, we would like to name him John.”

There was a collective “aww” that echoed through the funeral home as well as a new round of sniffles.

“Thank you again, all of you, for coming today.”  Sam gave a nod and walked back to his spot in-between himself and Jess.  Dean gave Sam a one-armed hug and a pat as he sat down.  Jess gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered “That was beautiful Sam.”

The preacher stood one last time at the podium.  “Thank you all for coming to the memorial service for John Winchester.  We will be laying him to rest next to his wife at 2:00 at Lawrence Memorial Cemetery.”

Dean stood up and started walking toward the exit when suddenly his chest lit up like fire.   Dean froze and gripped his necklace as it burned like it did in the dream.  As quickly as his necklace turned to fire, it cooled again to a steady warmth. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter coming soon. I have a very nsfw tumblr if your interested. I post my art there too. http://angerprobfemme.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, because the chapter ends at a good spot. I've already started the next chapter so the wait time shouldn't be so long. I started my job and it has me pretty busy. :)

“Dean!”

There it was again, that burn that he felt in his dream.

“Dean are you ok?”

He only felt it when he was near the blue-eyed man.  He must be close.  Dean broke out into a cold sweat and he felt a rough hand grab his shoulder and try to force him up.  He hadn’t realized he had bent over.  He gripped the old wood of the pew with white knuckles.  He could have sworn the wood creaked.

“Dean I’m serious!  You are scaring me!”

Dean snapped his head up.  Sam was staring at Dean, his face twisted with worry.

“Dean you look like you just saw a ghost.  Your sweating…”  Sam placed his hand on Deans forehead. 

Dean looked around and saw that a few stragglers were staring at him.  Dean swatted Sam’s hand away, suddenly self-conscious.   “Sam, what happened?  Did I do something?”

Sam looked taken aback at the question.

“Dean…you just doubled over and shouted.  It sounded like you were hurt.”

Dean cleared his throat and stood up.  He tried to straighten his jacket and gave the people staring a smile.

“Sorry, twisted my ankle.”  He waved at the remaining onlookers.  They seemed happy with his explanation but still responded with a forced smile as they filed out of the chapel.

Dean turned back to Sam and rolled his eyes.  “Come on Sammy lets go.”  Dean motioned with his head, but Sam didn’t budge.  Dean had to double take at the expression gracing his brothers face.

Sam had his arms crossed and was looking at Dean like his dad did when he got caught sneaking out of the house to visit Rhonda Hurley.

“What really happened Dean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Dean huffed out a sigh and scrubbed his hands through his hair.  “My chest felt like it did in the dream.”

Sam uncrossed his arms slowly.  “Which was…?”  Sam trailed off waiting for Dean to finish.

“I told you earlier that the necklace burned to the point where I couldn’t touch it.  Well it started with my chest.  It felt like someone put a cigarette out on me, but this time….it felt like a brand.”  Dean pushed on his chest in discomfort but none of the fire remained.  “It disappeared as quickly as it flared up.”

Sam looked lost in thought and Dean was just ready to move on with the day.  “Look Sammy, I don’t know why it happened, but we need to go.  Today isn’t about me.  Let’s go say goodbye to dad.”

“I know Dean, but this is weird.  There are many documented cases of different physical reactions when you are close to your match for the first time, but none of them mentioned the pain you are describing.  I’m starting to get worried about you.”

“Sam…  I. Am. Fine.  Let’s go.”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue but Dean was already headed to the door.

 

                                                                                      ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean sat in the Impala with his tape on a low volume.  He didn’t want to sit in silence while he waited for the hearse to pull out and take the lead.  He didn’t understand why his chest flared up like that in the church.  He was sure if dark hair and blue eyes was at his father’s memorial service, the burn would have lasted longer than 2 seconds.  He is also sure that he would have noticed the man.  Even if Dean were to never meet him, the memory of their dream encounters were burned into his brain.  He would never forget the man he has never met.

The creak of the passenger door pulled Dean from his thoughts.  Sam ducked his head and plopped into the car.

“Ok, we are ready to go.”  Sam said looking out the window.

Dean put the car into drive and watched as the hearse carrying his father pulled onto the stretch of road that would take them to the cemetery.

One by one the cars pulled out to follow the Impala.

It was a slow going 10 miles.  Not a word was exchanged between the brothers.

 Mary was buried in the same cemetery as her parents.  It was the original cemetery for the town so many of the graves dated back before the civil war.  It was secluded and surrounded by woods.  It was considered a historic landmark so all the modern hustle and bustle was avoided as the town grew.  He knew his mother would be thankful for that as he himself was thankful for a quiet place to come talk to her in peace.  

Dean concentrated on the soft sounds of the music coming from the old speakers.  He tried to ignore Sam’s occasional concerned glances, but it was putting him on edge.  10 miles shouldn’t be taking this long.  He wished the hearse would drive a little faster. Dean’s grip tightened on the steering wheel and his posture was stiffer than it usually was when he drove his baby.  Sam must have noticed because he stole another quick glance and sighed.  That was it. 

“Dude, what?!”

“We never finished our conversation.” 

“A funeral home isn’t the place.  There isn’t anything to talk about.  Let’s just concentrate on Dad, please.”

Dean could take a lot, but his very soul was tired.  He almost wished Sam rode with Jess just so he could stress out in peace.

Frustrated, Sam ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair. 

“Fine, you stubborn ass.  After the funeral, I’m going to look into why you are having these reactions.  I’ve never heard of it, Dean.  Jess might even be able to help.”

Dean ground his teeth together.  “Please let Jess be.  I think she has other priorities.  It will pass, don’t bring her into this.” Sam gave Dean a leveled look and turned to the window.

Sam resumed his thoughtful silence.  Dean prayed that was the end of it.  Although, now that he thought about it.  Jess was a nurse and she might know someone with answers.  Dean didn’t know what Sam could help with.  Sam worked at a firm that specialized in “match mishaps”.  Dean’s problem seemed more medical.  He still didn’t want to bother Jess.  It didn’t matter if Dean’s problem pertained to astrophysics, Sam would still try to help.  Sam called Dean a stubborn ass…he was one to talk.  Dean turned the music louder in hopes Sam would take a hint.

The hearses’ signal light started to blink.  Dean slowed and turned right, passing through wrought iron gates.  Dean saw people he recognized, tending to gravestones, as the impala bumped along the dirt road leading to the small parking area.  Normally Dean would just park along the road near his mother grave, but there were too many cars today.  Dean parked in the compact parking lot.  He turned off the car and stared at his lap.  The sounds of tires on gravel was the only thing filling up the silence of the car.  He fiddled with his keys as he tried to come up with something to say to his brother.  His brain was filled to maximum capacity and even still he couldn’t think of anything to say.  He was full of grief, fear, anticipation, regret and relief, too many emotions battling for dominance at the same time.  Sam placed his hand on Deans shoulder and gave a squeeze.  Dean looked up at his brothers tired face and saw his dad looking back at him.  So many happy memories.  He needed to paint over the bad memories of the past few years with those. Dean nodded and Sam smiled.

The dust from the vehicles started to settle as the brothers walked to the family plot.  He saw Bobby and Ellen a few yards ahead of them holding hands and Ash’s hand rubbed circles against Jo’s back.  No one was talking and the black mass of clothing was a harsh contrast against spring green trees and grass. The brightly colored flowers adorning the graves on both sides of them seemed like spotlights against the sea of green and black.

Dean and Sam approached the front of the crowd surrounding the casket containing John Winchester.  Dean grabbed two white roses from the pile sitting on a table near the preacher.  He walked back and noticed Jess standing next to Sam, already holding her rose.  There were hushed conversations around them as everyone waited for all in attendance to get a rose.  The whispered conversations turned silent as the preacher approached the casket. 

He opened the bible to a marked page and started reading.  Dean let the preacher become a dull buzz in the background as he looked around the crowd.  So many people from his childhood were here.  These people just weren’t present in his memories, but in John’s life and in Mary’s.  Most of these same faces were present at Sam’s wedding.  He was sure they would be there to celebrate the birth of Sam’s son.  A single tear fell as he realized his parents wouldn’t be here to see their grandson, or see Dean finally meet his match. Ellen had her head bowed in prayer and Bobby had taken his hat off and held it against his chest as his lips repeated what the preacher read.  Dean closed his eyes and said his own prayer to whoever was listening.  He wished his parents, wherever they were now, were together again.  He prayed they would watch Sam become even more successful.  He prayed they would watch Sam’s son grow.  He prayed, no, wished they were still here.  Dean opened his eyes and blinked away a tear. 

The preacher had stopped speaking and the lacquered box was being lowered into the ground.  He watched as his…family, yes family, placed their roses and a handful of dirt onto the casket.  People made their way back to the cars as they finished their goodbyes.  Soon it was just Dean, Sam, and Jess standing six feet above his father.  Bobby and Ellen stood a few feet behind.  Deans throat felt tight.

“Dad…I’m glad… you are with mom now.  She missed you.” Sam said, his words choppy.  “I’m sorry you won’t be able to meet your grandson, but we will bring him by with us every week.”  Dean couldn’t look at him.  If he did, the wall he carefully constructed for this day would shatter.  “We miss you dad.”  Sam said as he tossed the rose in.  He bent over and grabbed a large handful of soil.  He placed half of it in Jess’ hand. 

“Rest in peace.” Jess said as they both tossed the dirt in and walked toward Bobby and Ellen. 

Dean glanced around making sure he was alone.  He shifted his feet as he looked into the deep hole.

“Hey dad.  I hope this was ok.  It would have made mom happy and we both know that is all you ever wanted.”  Dean grinned as images of his parents smiling together flashed in his mind.  “I tried to stay strong for everyone.  Sam is happy with Jess and so good at his job.  The house will be in good hands, I’ll make sure of it, so you rest easy.  I’ll make sure everyone is taken care of and you bet your ass Baby is in good hands.”  Dean chuckled softly. 

“Look, I need to say something to you…”  Dean hated himself.  He only had the guts to say this to his father now.  “My necklace is finally warm.  My match, I think, isn’t someone you would have approved of...but… I just… I just wanted you to know that I will be happy with him, and I hope you can be happy for me.  I wish you could have met him”.  It was strange, he was talking like his blue eyes was standing next to him.  He wished the man was.

Dean threw the flower in the ground, feeling lighter. 

“Bye dad.  I’ll see you next week.”  With those final words, Dean threw the handful of dirt into his father’s grave. 

Dean felt hands on his shoulders and he knew it was Sam and Jess.  He turned and met the two with a hug he knew he needed for himself, but ignored previously.  Bobby and Ellen completed the circled embrace behind Dean.  He still had family, and he was thankful. 

“All right boys, let’s go get drunk for John.  And Jess I’ve got some killer apple juice for you.”  Ellen said with a smile on her face.  They all laughed as they headed down the dirt road toward the Impala that John took such good care of over the years. 

Bobby was halfway through a story of John’s bachelor party when he started to feel the heat of his necklace through his heavy blazer.  He shrugged it off.  There was no way the man would be anywhere near here.  This cemetery is full of locals and their families.  If the man had a reason to be here they would have met a long time ago.  His necklace must be broken after all.

Dean could see the Impala and reached into his pocket for his keys. His pocket was empty.  He patted his other pocket and blazer.  Those were also empty

“Shit.”

Bobby stopped his story and turned to Dean.  “What’s the matter?”

“I must have dropped my keys.  Sam, you good to ride with Jess?  I’ll meet you at the bar.”

“Uh, yea we’ll see you there.”

Bobby continued his story as Dean turned and started jogging toward the gravesite.  There was a small incline and once he was at the top he had line of sight to the grave.  His breath came way too quick for such a short jog, and his chest was starting to burn again.  It was getting to a very uncomfortable level.  ‘ _Jesus, can’t I catch a break’._ Dean thought as he rubbed at his chest.

It happened so suddenly but at the same time it was as if his movements and brain function ran in slow motion.  He noticed the man first.  He had his back to Dean and was throwing a rose into the grave.  The man had the same dark messy hair as blue eyes. 

“No fucking way…”

Dean stopped his jog at the same time the man turned around.  The most beautiful human being Dean had ever seen was gripping something at his chest.  The man looked pained and dropped what he was holding.  It didn't fall far because there was a cord attached to it.  It was a necklace, a necklace the same shape as Deans, but it was blue in color.  Dean didn’t have time to process the fact that the man he had been waiting for, for 35 years was standing yards away.  The burn in his chest returned, but this time it was crippling.  His knees buckled as he gripped his chest.  The last thing he saw and heard before the world went black was the man running away, and someone screaming his name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd if you see anything jarring or incorrect. please let me know.

The first thing Dean was conscious of was the smell.  It was too clean; Too overly sanitized.  It burned his nose when he took a deep breath.  He tried to move his arms first.  Rough fabric scratched against his forearms.  He attempted to open his eyes and bright lights left him momentarily blind.  He blinked them shut and groaned as he flexed his legs.  He felt the light weight of a blanket and then he heard the beeping.  He had heard that noise before.  He hated that noise. 

 

“Shit.”

 

Squinting, he opened his eyes.  The bright room came into focus slowly.  An ugly pastel fabric hung around his bed, separating him from the door.  To his left the blinds were open letting in an obnoxious amount of light into the room.  There was a machine behind him that was pulsing light in tandem to the beeping.  Next to his bulky, uncomfortable bed was a table with a pink pitcher and a cup sitting alone on top.  He was so thirsty.  He needed whatever was in that cup.  He tried to sit up but his muscles didn’t seem to want to work. 

 

“God Dammit!”  He grunted out.

 

His arms fumbled around him looking for the giant remote control he knew should be a part of the bed.  Nothing was lying next to him and his body protested when he reached behind him to feel under the pillow.  His fingers brushed against something hard and he grabbed the remote and pulled.  He held it in front of his face and scowled.  About a million options decorated the piece of hard plastic.  _I just want to sit up, there should not be this many buttons for a bed!_ He settled for one of the arrows pointing up.  He clicked the button and his feet started rising.

 

“No, stop!”  He clicked the button again and his feet held still.  He tried another arrow button, and this time the entire bed lurched up suddenly. 

 

“Sonuva Bitch!”  He threw the remote, but it was secured by a cord and just dangled off the bed.  “I hate hospitals…”  Dean exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.  He would just have to do it the old-fashioned way.  Willpower.

 

Dean gripped the plastic bed rails and with as much strength as he could muster, he pulled and pushed.  He had no idea how long he had been out, or why he was here, but whatever happened completely drained him.  It felt like he was hit by a bus, crawled out from under said bus and was then tackled by the entire Cowboy’s defensive line.  With gritted teeth, and a lot of swearing he managed to get to a sitting position.  He was out of breath and sweat dotted his forehead.

 

He grabbed the cup and took the straw in his mouth but the water wasn’t coming fast enough.  He ripped off the cheap plastic lid and gulped it down until the cup was empty.  He filled the cup again and repeated the process until he was nauseated, but the water managed to cool his sore throat and body. 

 

He was hunched over on the bed when he heard voices coming into the room.  They were slightly muted from the curtain, but he recognized his brothers voice.

 

“Mr. Winchester, we have run every test we could think of.  He is suffering from a slight case of exhaustion, but none of that can explain what you saw.  There isn’t anything wrong with his necklace either.  His body and the stone are in sync.”

 

“Dr. Fitzgerald, he has been unconscious for 3 days.  There must be something going on.  I told you about the burning.  There was a man running from my father’s grave after Dean fell.  It has to do with the necklace, I just know it.”

 

Ah, good ole Garth.  Just like most people in this town, he has known Garth for a long time.  He heard Garth sigh loudly.  He was probably just as frustrated with the lack of answers as everyone else was.

 

“Sam, he might have just needed to rest.  He has been under a lot of stress, both physically and mentally.  I can’t say why he seemed to be in so much pain.  It might be as simple as stress manifesting itself physically.”

 

There was a long pause and he could see the shadow Sam was casting go from standing, to a seated position.  Garth put his hand on Sam's shoulder and Dean felt low.  Dean could handle the stupid shit his body was doing, but he couldn’t stand that it was affecting Sam. 

 

“There is only one thing I can think of that would be causing this, and I would probably lose my job telling you this.  It isn’t strictly medical.  Hell, it isn’t even really scientific.”

 

Dean could see Sam lift his head and he could just imagine the hope written on his brother’s face.  He had seen it so many times.

 

“It is a very abstract theory, my meaning being, no one can prove it…There was a woman 40 years ago, that had the same symptoms as your brother.  Even her necklace was reacting in the same manner.  Her pain was so severe that she went into shock and the resulting organ failure killed her.  Doctors were stumped.  They all agreed she was in pain, but there was no medicinal reason for it.  Medical professionals wrote it off as not having the tests, equipment and knowledge we have today.”

 

Sam stood up again and started pacing.  “So, this has been documented?  If it has only been documented once in 40 years, I’m assuming this is rare.”

 

“Yea, this is incredibly rare, mostly because there is no actual diagnosis for, what I THINK, he is suffering from.  Very few people put stock in it.” 

 

"Put stock in what..." Sam asked tentatively.

 

Garth leaned in closer to Sam and whispered. “Soulmates” 

 

Sam backed away.  “What do you mean?  We all have soulmates; the stones find them for us.”

 

“No Sam, I mean true soulmates.  The reason Dean is having this reaction is his physical soul is trying to reach out to its match, his other half, the person who actually shares Deans soul.  I am sure this man you speak of is having similar reactions.”

 

“You’re talking as if the soul is an actual physical thing.  I thought that was what our stones were?”

 

“Our stones are a manifestation of our soul, yes, but it is still a small one.  No one knows the true extent of the human soul’s size and power.”

 

Garth pinched the bridge of his nose and continued.

 

“This is why medical professionals don’t want to even touch this topic.  It is too messy for them.  Too metaphysical...”  Garth chuckled.  “Everyone has a match, that is true.  As hard as it is, it is still possible to find another match after your first dies or leaves.   Look at Bobby and Ellen.  That isn’t an option for Dean.  That is why he is having this reaction.  There is literally only ONE person for him.  His very soul is trying to complete itself by leaving his body and seeking out this man.”

 

“Wow…” Sam said and sat down.  _All this sitting and standing is probably hell on the giant's knees_. Dean thought.

 

“Again, I can’t prove this, and so far, no one else can.  But at this point that is the only answer I can give you.  This can’t happen to Dean again.  He must fight through it the next time he sees the man.  Once they are together the sensations will calm down enough for them to, um, ya know…”

 

Dean let out an undignified shout.  “What!?”

 

“Dean!?” Sam called as he pulled back the curtain.  Garth rushed over to Dean and started to check the machines.  Garth started to prod and poke him while Sam gripped his hand. 

 

“Thank God, Dean, I thought you would never wake up.  I was so worried.  They ran every test…”

 

Dean interrupted him.

“I know Sammy, I heard everything.  I’ve been up for a second.”

 

“Oh, well, umm, how are you feeling?” Sam asked concerned etched on his face.

 

“Just peachy…”

 

“Dean, I really do need to know if you are feeling any discomfort?” Garth responded in doctor mode.

 

“Well, I feel like the US Women’s Softball team used me for batting practice…” Dean looked at Garth and Sam’s unamused faces and realized they wanted specifics.

 

“Fine, It took me a half an hour to sit up because my muscles refused to work.”

 

“Dean, why didn’t you just use the remote?”

 

“Sam, have you SEEN that thing!?  There are less complicated things on the Enterprise!  Sam grabbed the remote and on the first try got the head of the bed to incline. 

 _Of fucking course…._ Sam was usually the one to give a bitch face, but this time the situation called for Dean’s brand of bitch face.

 

“Whatever, thank you.”  Dean grumbled

 

A pregnant silence filled the room as Dean leaned against the newly inclined bed, his aching muscles having a chance to relax.  Dean closed his eyes and enjoyed the relief, but also used the distraction to block out his new situation.  He knew what he heard, but he just didn’t have the mental fortitude to address it yet.  He wanted to ignore it and pretend that he and his match could just have a fucking normal meeting.

True to form, Sam had to pester Dean into talking.

“So…you heard ALL of that?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes behind closed lids.  “Yea, Sammy, I did.”

 

“Well, what do you think?”

 

Dean snapped his eyes open and glared at his brother.  “What do you mean what do I think?  I am pretty sure I heard Garth right, but I am trying to pretend that I didn’t!  I can’t have anything “normal” can I!?”  Dean shouted as he quoted the air.  “It took this long for me to find him, and now I can’t have him!  What is that shit?”  The last question was asked to the ceiling.  Dean let his head fall back against the bed in defeat.  He scrubbed his hands against his face.  Maybe if he scrubbed hard enough he could rub this away like a bad dream.

 

“Dean, you can very easily have him.  It is just going to take a little bit of coordinating and will power on both your parts.”  Garth patted Deans arm and used his inspirational doctor voice.  He knew what came after that voice.

 

“Garth, so help me God, if you pull out Mr. Fizzles I will end you.”

 

The doctor held up his hands in submission. 

 

“Ok, fine Dean, Mr. Fizzles can’t deal with your negativity anyway.  Look, it might not be ideal for you but the match isn’t complete until the union is consummated, and until consummation occurs the force from which your soul is trying to find its other half will kill you.  A lot of couples wait a little bit, but you don’t have that luxury.”

 

Dean is sure he looks like a kicked puppy by the looks of pity coming his way.

 

“It won’t matter if I die.  There is no way in hell I can just force myself on him to feel better.  I would rather die.  I refuse.  If you’re saying this is as serious as it is, there is no way I would have time to explain.  How am I supposed to consummate ANYTHING if I am crippled by this reaction?”  Dean fired off his list of reasons why the situation was impossible, effectively convincing himself of his doomed fate.

 

“You would join your necklaces and the side effects should become manageable.  The hard part is getting that close without passing out...or dying.  I can give you a blocker to help you.  You would administer it like an epi pen.  I give them to patients who have extreme symptoms.”

 

Dean gave the doctor an incredulous look.

 

“The symptoms I am talking about are for patients who react with a high heart rate, or have an adverse reaction to foods and smells.  The shot wasn’t designed for cases like yours, considering the medical community refuses to acknowledge its existence.  But, it is the only option I can give you.  It should at least get you TO him.”

 

“That doesn’t change the consent issue.  I don’t even know his name.  We might be “soul mates”, but you are telling me to fuck a guy I haven’t even met and who’s name I don’t know…Don’t get me wrong, I would LOVE to fuck his brains out, but…. not like this.  There is no way he would go for this.  I mean, I don’t know him, but… COME ON.”

Sam fidgeted in his seat, and wouldn’t look Dean in the eyes.  Dean noticed Sam wringing his hands together.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Samantha, did that make you uncomfortable?”

 

“No!....Yes...No, look it was tmi, but I also want this to work for you.  Obviously, the guy needs a heads up and maybe one of those shots.  But Dean, he will want this as long it is with you.  I guarantee it.”  Sam said with a genuine smile.

 

Garth gave a tentative pat to Deans shoulder.  “It will work out Dean.  You and Sam work out the logistics and I’ll get your discharge paperwork together.”  With that Garth left him with his brother.

 

“Sam, how am I gonna do this?  How can I let him know what is going on if I can’t be near him?”  The question was almost a whisper.  He might have slept for three days, but he was already so tired.

 

The room was silent after Deans question until Sam gasped and sat up in in his seat as if he were electrocuted.

“If I brought a sketch artist, could you describe him?”

 

Dean perked up at his brother’s question.

 

“In ridiculous detail!”

 

“Perfect!”  Sam jumped up out of his seat and started pacing again.  The gears were turning in his brother’s huge head and Dean started to feel a small spark of hope.  

 

Sam stopped pacing and pulled the chair up to the bed, getting as close to Dean as possible.

 

“Did you ever meet Charlie?”  Sam asked, almost vibrating with excitement.

 

Dean shook his head.  “Who is he?”

 

“No, no.  SHE manages network security at the firm.  She is a magician on a computer.  She could hack the cities records to find him!”

 

All Dean can do is stare, wide eyed, at his brother as he shot idea, after idea at Dean.  He hadn’t seen Sam this excited since he found out he was going to be a father.  Even with all the fear Dean had about being alone forever, then the fear of his reaction to his match, and now potential death, he could find some solace in seeing Sam excited.  Hell, Sam seemed legitimately happy as he fleshed out his ideas.  Dean felt a smile come to his lips as he watched his brothers animated body language while he described Charlie and her skills.

 

“We can assume that this man recently moved here if you are just NOW feeling heat in your necklace.  That will make him even easier to find!  We can use the sketch to confirm his likeness when Charlie gets a hit on his records.”  This was actually possible.  No, it was perfect.  Thank God for Sam.  The smile on Sam’s face could light up a room and it was contagious, but a thought came to Dean.

 

“Dean what is wrong?  We can do this!  Please let me try.”

 

“Why was he at dads grave?”

 

The question seemed to take all the wind out of Sam’s sails.  Where he was once standing and full of movement, now he was calm and slowly seating himself.

 

“There could be a million reasons.”

 

“Not really Sam.  He knows who I am.  There was no other reason for him to be a Dad’s funeral.  I understand him not wanting to get close with all this weird bullshit, but if he knows who I am why hasn’t he tried to contact me.”

 

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair.  “Again, another million reasons.  He’s scared?  He doesn’t want to freak you out?  He’s not ready?  Maybe it is all of those and the only thing he could think to do for you was show his respect for dad.”  Sam shrugged and leaned closer to the bed to continue.

 

“Look, lets concentrate on what WE can do.  We have some great options and I am really hopeful.”  Sam’s smile was back.  Dean craved that optimism he had earlier, but he couldn’t shake the doubt.  Regardless of the war inside his head, Deans only option at this point was to accept help from his friends.

 

“Ok Sammy, let’s try this out.”

 

“Great!”  Sam stood, whipped out his phone and started typing furiously over the mini keyboard.  “Try and get some sleep while we wait on Garth.  I’ll contact Charlie and the sketch artist.  You got this Dean.”  Sam turned and walked past the curtain not looking up from the phone.  Dean was surprised he didn’t run into the wall.

 

“God I hope this works…”  Dean whispered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at updating, work and a toddler are time consuming. hahahahahah Oh lord, I have no idea how this turned into a fuck or die fic. The story has taken an unexpected turn for me. I promise that there will be more to the story than a fuck or die scenario. Don't get me wrong, I love me some fuck or die fic's But I wasn’t planning on it going this way. My brain does whatever the fuck it wants. I just pretend to have control of it. *shrugs* OH well! buahahahah chaos!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This was not beta'ed so if you find any jarring mistakes let me know. I write as a hobby. I am not an English major or anything so I am terribly sorry if it is not great. If you like it please leave a comment of encouragement. If you don't like it, please tell me how it could be better. :)
> 
> I have a tumblr. It is VERY not safe for work. But I post my art there too.  
> http://angerprobfemme.tumblr.com/


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